P s 



LIBRARYO^CONGRESSJI 

j^UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



I 



THE VENDETTA 



A Farce. 



By WM. E. McKENNA. 



V/Tfry 



Copyright, 1893, by Wm. E. flcKenna. 



^ i^\k 






t 



THE VENDETTA 



A FARCE 



CHARACTERS. 

Angelo Cavatina. {hi love with Lucia.) 
Edgardo Ultramarino. {His friend.) 
GiACOMO Franconi. {Father of Lucia.) 
Ugolino Pestelini. {Apothecary.) 
Antonio Poniardi. {Boss assassin.) 
GUGLIELMO BUFFALONIO. {Journeyman assassin.) 
PlETRO BOLOGNI. {O^ce boy.) 



Lucia Franconi. {A beautiful Corsican.) 
Elvira Franconi. {Her sister.) 



SCENE— Corsica. 



THE VENDETTA 



^-^♦-4- 



SCENE I.— Office of Poniardi & Co. 

Antonio. Yes, there is no question about it; busi- 
ness is dull. I don't know what's the matter. We 
have as fine a band of assassins as there are in all 
Corsica — skillful, experienced, reliable — competent 
in every way. Our prices are certainly low enough 
to attract patronage. And yet I am afraid we shall 
have a very poor fall trade. Pietro ! Pietro !— where 
is that confounded boy ? 

Pietro. Yes, sir. Here I am, sir. 

Antonio. Pietro, I am surprised you can't take a 
little interest in this business. What time did you get 
down this morning? 

Pietro. Six-thirty, sir. 

Antonio. When I was your age I thought nothing 
about going to work at 5.45 a.m. Boys are not like 
what they used to be then. Where have you been for 
the last two hours ? 

Pietro. I went to Signor Franconi's to see about 
that contract. 

Antonio. Does it take two hours to go to Signor 
Franconi's ? 



6 THE VENDETTA. 

PlETRO. He wasn't in and I waited for him. 

Antonio. Ah ! that is the one point in which the 
boys of the present excel those of all past generations. 
When it comes to waiting for a man who isn't in, they 
can defy antiquity to produce their equals. I am sur- 
prised you ever came back. 

PlETRO. I thought you might want me to come 
back. 

Antonio. Satire is wasted on him. Say, didn't 
you know better than to wait two hours? Did you 
think the office ought to seek the office boy, and not 
the office boy the office ? I'd discharge you on the 
spot if there was any chance that your successor 
would be any improvement on you. But I suppose 
there is no use expecting to get a boy to think of any- 
thing but his vacation and the Saturday half-holiday 
movement. What did Signor Franconi say ? 

PlETRO. Said he'd be down to see you right 
away. 

Antonio. He must be a mighty slow poke to let 
you get here ahead of him. Ah ! here he is. 
{Enter Franconi.) 

Franconi. Good morning. Hot weather, isn't it? 

Antonio. Extremely. Take a chair. 

Franconi. Thanks. Well, I came down to con- 
sult you about that little affair of mine. I suppose I 
had better tell you something of the circumstances. 
In the year 1762 my family and that of Signor Ales- 
sandro Cavatina were neighbors, and I may say friends. 



THE VENDETTA. 7 

This friendship, which had continued for many years, 
was suddenly interrupted and changed into deadly 
enmity by a certain youthful and (it must be admitted) 
fresh Franconi, who alluded to a white horse in the 
presence of Signora Cavatina. The next morning the 
head of the Franconi was found dead in his bed — his 
throat cut from ear to ear. The day after, a grey- 
bearded Cavatina was stabbed to the heart. Within 
a week, one morning when the sun was lighting up 
the azure firmament and the birds were carolling in 
their leafy nests, another Franconi, who had been out 
all night and was taking a cocktail, was set upon by 
a band of masked ruffians; and when he was gathered 
to his fathers he was so disfigured that they couldn't 
recognize him. And so the vendetta has continued, 
handed down from father to son, and the score now 
stands 64 to 53 in favor of the other side. 

Antonio. And you naturally want the affair 
settled up. 

Franconi. Yes. 1 am an old man now and it 
makes me tired. To come to business. There are 
twenty-one of the Cavatinas left. I can give you 
their names and addresses. What will you take to 
put them all out of the way ? 

Antonio. Do you want them to shuffle off this 
mortal coil under circumstances of brutal atrocity ? 

Franconi. No. A simple, every-day shuffle will 
fill the bill. 

Antonio. Exceptional atrocity doesn't cost a great 



8 THE VENDETTA. 

deal more, sir. Might as well have it done in style. 
We have a little argument on the tariff on hoop-skirts, 
with statistics to match. It is regarded as particu- 
larly excruciating. We are also introducing a trolley 
system, which we think cannot fail to please our pa- 
trons. 

Franconi. Can't afford it. What is your lowest 
wholesale cash price for the ordinary article ? 

Antonio. One florin per shuffle. Ten per cent, off 
for cash. 

Franconi. Well, I won't quarrel with you. Ml 
send you the names and addresses in the morning 
and you go ahead. A confoundedly expensive thing 
this family feud is. Not to speak of the cost of re- 
moving the Cavatinas, I have to pay the funeral 
expenses of all the Franconi they kill. The family 
vault is constantly out of repair, and I have a pile of 
undertakers' bills home that would astonish you. 
Once I was a rich man— so rich, Antonio, that I 
was frequently obliged to lie awake at night wor- 
rying over the possibility that the money market 
might not be tight. Well, good day. 

Antonio. Good day. {Exit Franconi.) Well, 
there's an order, anyway. Now, Pietro, let me see 
that circular I prepared yesterday. 

(Pietro hands hhn the circular, tvhich he reads.) 
Hum! '' Satisfaction guaranteed." Good. ''Prompt 
attention to orders by wire. Office hours ten to four. 
Murder in the first degree a specialty. Exceptionally 



THE VENDETTA. 9 

low rates on plumbers and baseball umpires. Trial 
orders solicited." All right, Pietro ; send four thou- 
sand of these off by mail ; be sure you fold them 
carefully, and you can go home when you get through. 
Good day, Pietro. 

SCENE II.— On the Bank of a River. 

Angelo. Yes, 1 am alone on the bank of this 
beautiful river, and I will seize this occasion before 
anybody comes to indulge in a soliloquy. Nothing 
like a soliloquy to inform the pubhc who you are, and 
what you are doing, and what you have on your mind 
and so forth. Oh, cruel fate ! to think that I, the scion 
of a noble house, should be forced to become a bob- 
tail car driver. Yes, I, even I, Angelo Cavatina, 
have come to this ; and he, even he, Franconi, the 
ancient foe of my father's house — he is president of 
the road. Oh, misery ! oh, poverty ! oh, degradation ! 
And you can't knockdown a cent. Who says inven- 
tions benefit the laboring classes ? Let him look at 
the bell-punch and soak his head. But a truce to 
philosophy. Let me soliloquize about love and 
inform the public that Lucia Franconi is the sweetest, 
noblest, most beautiful — there, the public will under- 
stand the rest. I met her riding in one of her father's 
cars. Noble girl ! she declined to drop a nickel in 
the box. A fellow feeling sprang up between us. 
Many a secret interview have we had since then, and 
now we live but for each other. What though I am 



lo THE VENDETTA. 

penniless; she cares not. Willingly would she marry 

me in the springtime. Oh, Lucia ! Ah ! she is here. 

{Enter LuciA.) 

Lucia. Ah, Angelo, it is you ! 

Angelo. Of course it is. My darling ! My 
darling ! 

Lucia. Did you, then, speak to my father ? 

Angelo. I did, my love. I did. 

Lucia. And what said he, Angelo ? 

Angelo. The facts concerning the interview, my 
Lucia, v^ill shortly be made known to yourself and 
the expectant public. The company, you know, 
allows thirty minutes for dinner to those of its em- 
ployes who feel that they can afford to indulge in 
such extravagance. I seized those fleeting moments 
and made my way into the presence of your 
father. He consented to hear my story. I told him 
the circumstances of our acquaintance, concealing 
nothing but my family name, which I thought he 
would consider an insuperable bar to our union. I 
scorned to ask him to endow his daughter with any 
portion of his princely fortune, 1 told him 1 was 
earning eleven dollars per week, which munificent 
sum he himself had frequently stated in published 
interviews ought to be sufficient to satisfy any man. 
I explained to him that nine or ten dollars per month 
would pay the rent of an apartment on the top floor 
of a seven-story flat, which flat would only be occupied 
by twenty-seven other families, and would form a 



THE VENDETTA. ii 

secluded retreat for the beautiful bride of toil. 
Beautiful bride of toil was all right, wasn't it? 

Lucia. Oh, Angelo ! And what did he say ? 

Angelo. He looked at me with a stony. glare, but 
he didn't say anything. I told him that eminent 
statisticians had proved that a family of fourteen or 
less can live luxuriously on three dollars per week ; 
and then allowing eight or ten dollars per month for 
beer, there would remain a surplus out of my salary 
sufficient (if allowed to remain long enough at com- 
pound interest) to wipe out the national debt. Then 
I paused for a reply. 

Lucia. And what did he say? 

Angelo. Nothing. At first I thought he was 
paralyzed. 

Lucia. Well, silence gives consent, does it not? 

Angelo. It may, Lucia, and then again it may not. 
When the silent party fires an ink-bottle at the head 
of the party who has spoken, then, Lucia, it is doubt- 
ful if silence gives consent. The act of hurling the 
ink-bottle may not be intended to inflict personal 
injury, but merely to express emphatic dissent and to 
spatter the wall-paper. 

Lucia. Oh, Angelo! And what did you do? 

Angelo. My darling, can you ask? I dodged 
the ink-bottle and skipped. Your father is a lively 
man considering his age ; but with a handicap of one 
flight of stairs, your devoted admirer defies him to 
do his worst. 



12 THE VENDETTA. 

Lucia. Oh ! I am so glad you are safe. What 
shall we do now ? 

Angelo. The first thing I shall do, Lucia, will be 
to look for a job. When found (in the language of 
Captain Cuttle) I shall make a note on't. 1 will ad- 
vertise in the Daily Wind-Bag. The Wind-Bag, you 
know, has a larger circulation than any other paper in 
the country. Everybody reads the Wind-Bag. The 
editor savs so. 

Lucia. I do hope you will be successful ! 

Angelo. And now, Lucia, I want to speak to you 
about another matter. A few days ago, when I re- 
vealed to you the fact that I am a Cavatina, we agreed 
that our engagement was not to interfere with the 
family feud, except so far as we ourselves are con- 
cerned. It was understood that I am to beat liberty 
to murder any of your relatives should an oppor- 
tunity offer. 

Lucia. Oh, certainly ! I am not going to be un- 
reasonable. 

Angelo. Very well. I did think of making an 
exception of your father if he had acted at all hand- 
somely to-day. But, by the bones of my buried an- 
cestors, that ink-bottle shall be avenged. I will marry 
you, Lucia, when the robins nest again; but ere to- 
morrow's sun sinks into the west, the dagger of an in- 
jured Cavatina shall pierce your father's heart. 

Lucia. Oh, not my father, Angelo, please ! Any 
one but him. I have several first cousins who are of 



THE VENDETTA. 13 

no earthly use, and there are a number of fellows who 
are brothers to me. I will help you to murder some 
of them if you wish. But not my father, dearest, 
please ! 

Angelo. Well— well, you are hard to resist. I 

will think it over. And yet the ink-bottle Well, 

your father shall have a stay of proceedings, at any 
rate. And now, my darling, when shall I see 

you 

{Enter Antonio and the assassins^ 

Antonio. There he is — flirting with Franconi's 
daughter, too. Angelo Cavatina, we have discovered 
your identity. Prepare to die. 

Angelo. At this early stage of the proceedings ? 
Never ! Fear not, Lucia — fear not, loved one. I don't 
know how I am to get out of this, but I have a serene 
confidence that something will turn up to avert the 
impending catastrophe. Two to one, base wretch 
(to Antonio), that I don't pass in my checks this time. 

Antonio. Strike, Guglielmo. Strike the scoun- 
drel to the heart. Why hesitate ? Strike ! 

Guglielmo. I detest punning, sir, but we are 
all going to strike— for shorter hours and more pay. 

Antonio. What, now ? when I have a contract 
on my hands? 

Guglielmo. Experience has taught us, sir, that 
it is no time to strike when there's no work to do. 

Antonio. It's always the way. The ungrateful 
wretches forget that I furnish them with employment. 



14 THE VENDETTA, 

You couldn't conveniently postpone this strike until 
some occasion when I have no use for your services? 

GuGLiELMO. We w^ould be very happy to accom- 
modate you, but we feel it our duty to our wives and 
children to get all the wages we can, and we always 
do our duty. If we did not, remorse would gnaw at 
our vitals. You do not blame us for cherishing our 
vitals with tender solicitude? 

Antonio. You decline, then, to annihilate this 
Cavatina? 

GuGLiELMO. At present rates — yes. So far as we 
are concerned, the whole tribe of the Cavatinas may 
live to be as old as Methuselah's goat. 

Antonio. You heathen wretch ! 

GuGLiELMO. I repeat it— as old as Methuselah's 
goat. Should they attain the age of that celebrated 
animal, we will contemplate their astonishing longev- 
ity with stoic indifference. 

Antonio. Farewell, then. Ere the spring returns 
to fill the earth with beauty, you will be masticating 
snowballs. Then will you regret your madness. 
{Exit.) 

Angelo. Lucia, did I not tell you 1 was too young 
to die? Come and have an ice-cream soda. {Exeunt.) 

SCENE III.— The Franconi Mansion. 

Franconi. My daughter, I am surprised and 
shocked to think that you should lend a willing ear 
to the suit of young Cavatina — that you should look 



THE VENDETTA. 15 

with favor on a bobtail car driver and the enemy of 
your father's house. Are you not aware that 1 have 
long since destined your hand for Signor Fresco- 
baldi, aged forty-five, rich as Croesus 

Lucia. Pardon me, papa, Croesus is not rich- 
he may have been once, but he hasn't a cent now. I 
have little doubt that any contributions for the benefit 
of his bereaved descendants would be gratefully re- 
ceived and promptly acknowledged. 

Franconi. Well, well— as rich as Croesus was. 
Do not wander from the question. And Signor 
Frescobaldi comes from one of the best families in the 
country. One of his ancestors came over on the 
Plymouth Rock ; another took a highly important part 
in the conquest of England by the Mormons ; a third 
paid Csesar's fare when he crossed the Rubicon by 
the four o'clock boat. 

Lucia. Yes, pa. 

Franconi. Lucia, am I to understand that " Yes " 
as an acceptance of Signor Frescobaldi ? 

Lucia. No, pa. When you speak to me of the 
wealth and nobility of Signor Frescobaldi, an irre- 
sistible desire seizes upon my soul to reply '' rats" or 
'^ chestnuts," as those expressions, however objection- 
able on the score of antiquity or vulgarity, are best 
calculated to convey my opinion on the point. 

Franconi. Then, Lucia, you refuse Frescobaldi? 

Lucia. I do. 

Franconi. It would seem that the Fates have sent 
me an opportunity to spread myself as a stern parent. 



i6 THE VENDETTA. 

And I must say that the Fates were remarkably level- 
headed when they selected me for that purpose. If 
there is any man in the neighborhood who under- 
stands the stern parent business, that man is yours 
truly. Lucia, I will give you twenty-four hours to 
consider. If you then refuse, I will take stern meas- 
ures — what measures, T do not know as yet ; but 1 
will say that you may reasonably anticipate that there 
will be blood on the face of the moon, or words to 
that effect. {Exit Franconi.) 

Lucia. Now, that I am alone, let me seek in tears 
the solace of a breaking heart, (ii/z/^r Elvira.) Ah, 
Elvira, you little know the sorrow of your sister. 

Elvira. What is the trouble, Lucia? 

Lucia. I will tell you briefly. I have two lovers. 
One is Signor Frescobaldi whom I don't care about. 
The other is Angefo Cavatina. 

Elvira. Angelo Cavatina — how is this? Where 
did you meet him ? How 

Lucia. That doesn't matter now. But I love him 
with all my heart. I have promised to marry him, 
and father has just told me that I must marry Fresco- 
baldi. I refused, and he threatens me with ven- 
geance. 

Elvira. Oh, it is a terrible situation. I don't 
know what on earth you can do. Father does not 
know of your love for Angelo ? 

Lucia. He does. Woe to Angelo if he ever comes 
within reach of the paternal boot. 



THE VENDETTA. 



17 



Elvira. You will not marry Frescobaldi ? 

Lucia. Never. 

Elvira. It is horrible. Angelo Cavatina—I don't 
see what course you can possibly take. 

Lucia. Oh, I have made up my mind. I shall 
commit suicide. 

Elvira. Ah, to be sure. I never thought of that. 

Lucia. Yes, it is the most romantic course open 
to me. I will prove to Angelo the depth of my de- 
votion. He will know that I would rather die than 
be another's bride. You will promise me, Elvira, 
will you not, that the reporters shall have all the 
particulars ? 

Elvira. With pleasure, Lucia. Have you decided 
in what manner you intend to take your departure 
from this weary world ? 

Lucia. I have. Anticipating the result of an in- 
terview with my cruel father, I notified a neighbor- 
ing druggist, Ugolino Pestelini, to call on me this 
afternoon. I marvel that he is not here already. Ah, 
he comes ! 

{Enter Ugolino.) 

Ugolino. Ah, madam, you are the lady that is 
ill. 

Lucia. No, I am not ill. I 

Ugolino. Pardon me, madam. You fancy, no 
doubt, that it is a slight indisposition. But you ar^ 
mistaken. To the experienced eye of science it is ap- 
parent that the canker of disease is slowly consuming 



i8 THE VENDETTA. 

the seeds of jour vitality, and that you, notwithstand- 
ing- your seeming health and vigor, are on the verge 
of the grave. It is well that you sent for me. If I 
had arrived a moment later I would not answer for 
the consequences. But do not be alarmed, madam ; 
it is not too late. A few bottles of my Universal 
Panacea 

Lucia. What are you talking about ? I don't want 
your panacea. I 

Ugolino. Just one moment, madam. Others have 
said they didn't want my panacea. They were in- 
duced to try it, madam, by the urgent solicitations of 
their friends. To-day these people are raising their 
voices in canticles of praise. Permit me to show you 
some of these canticles which I have received by 
mail. 

Lucia. But 

Ugolino. Don't be impatient, madam. Here is 
one from the eminent painter, Raphael, certifying 
that after having been for twenty- eight years a con- 
stant sufferer from cholera infantum, he was com- 
pletely cured by using two bottles of my Universal 
Panacea. Here is another from the celebrated states- 
man, Ma^hiavelli : " Dear Sir, — My son, George W. 
Machiavelli, has just recovered from a severe attack 
of our great national disease, spring fever. I am 
happy to say that I attribute his recovery entirely 
to the use of your panacea." 

Lucia. Yes, that is all very well, but 



THE VENDETTA. 19 

Ugolino. And here, madam, is a letter from the 
poet Dante : " For years 1 have been a victim to de- 
lirium tremens. Regularly I used to imagine myself 
in the infernal regions. I consulted many physicians. 
They all told me that I must give up drinking or die. 
With stoic resignation 1 prepared for my approaching 
end. A friend advised me to try your panacea. I 
did so. I found that after using three bottles my 
wildest fits of delirium never carried me further than 
purgatory, and I am able to state that now, after a 
continued use of your valuable remedy, I regularly 
experience the joys of Paradise. Yours truly, 
Dante." 

Lucia. Yes, but 

Ugolino. One letter more. It is from Jabber 
Khan, the Ameer of Afghanistan : '' Dear Sir,— Six 
months ago I had the pleasure of receiving a package 
of your panacea. To-day, I am glad to inform you, 
there is not a single undertaker in all my dominions." 
You will allow me, madam, to recite some stanzas 
which I have composed on the subject of my panacea : 

If you want a never- failing cure for gout or for gastritis, 
Burns, bunions, or bronchitis, or broken bones, or bumps, 

Sore throat, or scarlet fever, small pox, spinal meningitis, 
Melanosis, or malaria, or measels ; or for mumps, 

Corns, cholera, or consumption, or cancer, or catarrh, 

Hydrophobia, or whooping cough, or headache— here you are ! 

I have flattering letters in my possession 
From the ablest men m the profession. 
'Tis said by Galen and Hippocrates 
(In classic Greek) to be "just the cheese." 
And I may remark that, according to Iloyle, 
* It's quite as good as St. Jacob's Oil. 



20 THE VENDETTA. 

Lucia. But you cannot cure the disease with 
which I am inflicted. Oh, Angelo ! 

Ugolino. Yes, madam ; my panacea will cure 
Angelo. Angelo, it is true, is a disease which has 
been making frightful ravages in this country, and it 
has long been regarded as incurable. But, that is a 
mistake. With my panacea I have cured forty-seven 
cases of Angelo within two months. I have here a 
letter from a man who had Angelo for thirty-six 
years. 

Elvira. But this lady hasn't Angelo. If she had, 
it would be all right. 

Lucia. 1 don't want your medicine. Angelo is the 
name of my lover — not of my disease. I want to end 
my life — not to prolong it. Give me the deadliest 
poison you have. 

Ugolino. Ah,- madam, you are so hasty. I was 
about to remark, if you had not interrupted me, that 
my panacea is not only the best known cure for all 
diseases, not excepting that frightful malady, Angelo — 
strange coincidence that your lover should be so 
named — but it is also specially adapted for suicidal 
purposes. I can show you letters from thousands of 
people who have used it. Their only regret is that 
they are Tiot alive to commit suicide again. What, 
may I ask you, is the cause of the slender population 
of Alaska? It is the fact that I have long since ex- 
ported to that fortunate region two cases of my 
panacea. It is the most deadly drug ever discovered, 



THE VENDETTA. 21 

warranted to cause death in two minutes. Permit me 
to show you this letter from Lucrezia Borgia, the 
celebrated murderess, stating that she uses it ex- 
clusively ; and excuse me for troubling you with 
some verses which I composed on receiving this 
epistle : 

This letter from Lucrezia, now, will give you an idea. 

Observe you in what glowing terms my drug she recommends. 
"In all my future murders I shall use your panacea, 
And I'll gladly introduce it to my suicidal friends." 
Many other testimonials of like value I could show, 
And I hope to have another, soon, from you and Angelo. 

Of the many thousands whose lives it's ended, 

By all it is highly recommended 

As much superior to strychnine. 

Or prussic acid, or paris green ; 

And even by some, in Kingdom Come, 

It's greatly preferred to laudanum. 

Lucia. Well, I will try a bottle. 

Ugolino. Thanks. Will you take one, madam ? 
( To Elvira). 

Elvira. No, thank you. 

Ugolino. Well, good-day. 

Lucia. And now I must take the fatal potion. 
(^Enter Angelo and Edgardo). 

Angelo. Lucia ! 

Lucia. Ah, Angelo, you are just in time. I am 
about to commit suicide. See, I have here a bottle 
of deadly poison. We will die together. Will you 
have some, Angelo ? 



22 THE VENDETTA. 

Angelo. Thanks, dearest; I am not thirsty at 
present. 

Edgardo. May I inquire what the trouble is? 

Lucia. Oh, my father insists on my marrying 
Signor Frescobaldi. He would never consent to my 
marrying Angelo. 

Edgardo. And has it never occurred to you that 
you can marry Angelo without your father's con- 
sent? 

Lucia. There, now, Elvira, you never think of 
anything. 

Elvira. But what is the use ? Father would 
make their lives a burden to them. There is no 
place in Italy where they would be safe from his 
wrath. 

Edgardo. Then let them leave Italy. Let them 
go to America. 

Lucia. Could we do that? What kind of a place 
is America? 

Edgardo. Oh, a very nice place. I have several 
friends there. 

Angelo. What could we do in America? How 
could we support ourselves if we should go there ? 

Edgardo. Why there is our friend, Lorenzo 
Benvenuti ; he went to America, and he writes me, 
offering to sell, at a remarkably low figure, his in- 
terest in a flourishing peanut business. 

Angelo. Flourishing is it? Why don't he con- 
tinue the business himself, then ? 



THE VENDETTA. 23 

Edgardo. Alas, poor Lorenzo ! He stabbed a 
man a short time ago, and he is now serving ten 
years at hard labor. 

Elvira. Hard labor? What is that, Lucia? 

Lucia. Can't imagine, I'm sure. Never heard of 
such a thing in this country. 

Edgardo. I think it must be something connected 
with politics. Anyway, the politicians there are con- 
tinually talking about it. 

Angelo. I don't think my talents are equal to the 
successful management of the peanut business. 

Edgardo. Oh, you always were too modest. 
Well, here is another chance for you. You remember 
Guido Torelli, who went to America some time ago ? 

Angelo. Yes ; what of him ? 

Edgardo. Well, Guido is dead; and he has willed 
you all his property — an organ, two monkeys and a 
tambourine. 

Angelo. Poor fellow ! What did he die of ? 

Edgardo. Oh, he killed a man, too, and they hung 
him for it. 

Angelo. That settles it. You won't find me go- 
ing to America if such a state of things exists there. 
Life must be terribly insecure. I should think it is 
bad enough, you must admit, to have people kill one 
another ; but what an increase of mortality there 
would be if all the murderers were to be executed ! 

Edgardo. Oh, that was merely an accident, 
Guido's case. It very seldom happens. 



24 THE VENDETTA. 

Lucia. Well, that alters the matter, doesn't it? I 
thhik it would be perfectly delightlul to go to 
America and continue Guido's business. Don't 
you, Elvira? 

Elvira. No; I think the suicide idea was ever so 
much better. Don't you, Angelo? 

Angelo. I don't know. I'll do just as Lucia 
pleases. 

Lucia. Oh, I am for going to America by all means. 
We will fly from this horrible country on the wings 
of love, will we not, Angelo? 

Angelo. Yes, darling ; it seems extremely proba- 
ble that we will be obliged to resort to some such 
mode of conveyance ; for, at the moment, I do not 
know where in thunder I could raise the price of a 
steerage ticket. But fear not, dearest ; young though 
I am in years, yet many a dead-head racket 1 have 
worked, and fortune will be cruel, indeed, if she de- 
serts me now ! 

Elvira. Well, this is all very well, but my 
father may come here any moment; and if he finds 
Angelo he will soon demolish your air-castles. I 
don't care — I think the suicide idea was much 
better. 

Edgardo. Your father may come? 

{Enter Franconi and the assassins.) 

Franconi. Villain, he is here ! 
{To Antonio.) I am glad everything is settled be- 
tween you and your men, so that I can now proceed 



THE VENDETTA. 25 

to wreak my vengeance on my foes. Seize that man ! 
{Pointing to Angelo.) {They do so.) 

Lucia. Oh, spare him, father ! He is my lover, 
my affianced husband ! 

Franconi. I will spare him, Lucia, on one condi- 
tion — that you will marry Frescobaldi. 

Lucia. I cannot marry him — I will not marry 
him. 

Angelo. Reflect, Lucia. Do not rashly reject 
your father's alternative. He is older than we are, 
Lucia, and his judgment may be better than ours. 
Besides, if you will excuse an expression which the 
emotion of the moment wrings from me, as it were, 
he appears to have the bulge on us. I have not the 
same serene confidence that I felt the last time my life 
was threatened. Now that we are nearing the end, 
Lucia, how can we tell whether this is to be a tragedy 
or a comedy ? 

Lucia. Can you advise me thus? Oh, Angelo! 
Now, indeed, is the fatal potion welcome ! Farewell, 
bright sun, fair moon and twinkling stars ! Farewell, 
father — sister — Angelo ! {She drinks the potion.) 

Franconi. My daughter, what have you done? 
Run, some one, for a physician ! 

Lucia. It is of no use. The drug is warranted to 
cause immediate death. 

Franconi. Oh, in that case, we may as well go 
ahead with my projects of vengeance. Antonio, strike 
off that scoundrel's head at once. 



26 THE VENDETTA. 

(Lucia zvhispers to Elvira.) 

Elvira. One moment. Lucia would rather not 
see Angelo killed. She wishes you to wait until she 
dies. It won't take a minute. 

Franconi. Certainly. No hurry, Lucia. 

Elvira. Do you feel yourself growing fainter, 
darling ? 

Lucia. No, I can't say that I do. 

Elvia. You don't feel your life ebbing away? 

Lucia. It don't seem to ebb to any remarkable 
extent. I wonder if he could have given me the 
wrong stuff ? 

Elvira. The wrong stuff? Oh, the fraud ! The 
trickery of these people is simply disgusting. An- 
tonio, you are familiar with poisons, examine this. 
{^He docs so.) 

Antonio. It wouldn't harm a baby. 

Franconi. The scoundrel I I'll teach him to 
cheat my daughter ! Who is he, Elvira? 

Elvira. Ugolino Pestelini. Some one go and 
bring him. There will be no trouble in finding his 
place. {Exit an assassin.) 

Franconi. Now, Antonio, we will proceed. 

{Enter^FlY^TKO. He hands a letter to Antonio). 
Antonio.' {Reads.) '' Check of Signor Franconi, de- 
posited in the Sand Bank of Corsica, returned — no 
funds." Sir, that check must be made good before 
we do another stroke of work. 



THE VENDETTA. 27 

Franconi. Oh ! Elvira, your poor old father is 
ruined. I thought to avert this blow, but it comes 
at last. 

Edgardo. Are you now free to do a little work 
for me, Antonio ? 

Antonio. Certainly, sir. Cash in advance. 

Edgardo. Of course. You don't suppose I ex- 
pected credit. How fortunate that my uncle, who 
recently died, should have left me a million in green- 
backs ! T propose, Antonio, to start the Co-operative 
Mutual Assassination Company, to be organized under 
the laws of New Jersey, with a capital of one million 
ducats, half in preferred stock paying 25 per cent, 
dividend, and half in common stock. On what 
terms, Antonio, can I secure the services of yourself 
and your associates ? 

Antonio. Make me treasurer and say no more 
about terms. For the rest, Guglielmo must speak. 

GuGLiELMo. Our demands shall not be exorbitant. 
We will be satisfied, in addition to our present wages, 
with 100 per cent, of the profits of the concern. 

Edgardo. This is more moderate than I expected. 
Are those the entire conditions ? 

Guglielmo. Well, as to our hours. We will 
work from 12 o'clock, noon, until i P. M., with an hour 
off for lunch. 

Edgardo. Well, I hope you won't overexert 
yourselves. Will you throw in ten minutes' work 
now? .Will you execute my orders? 



28 THE VENDETTA. 

GUGLIELMO. We will, sir. 

{Enter an assassin ivitJi Ugolino.) 

Edgardo. Ah ! Apothecary. I will talk to you 
in a minute. Now, just see me arrange the tableau. 
Signor Franconi, you will consent to Angelo's mar- 
riage to your daughter. If not, Antonio will cut your 
throat. 

Franconi. Bless you, my children. 

Edgardo. That is edifying. Secondly, you and 
Angelo will terminate this absurd family feud and 
swear eternal friendship. Otherwise Antonio 

Franconi. {To Angelo.) Under the circum- 
stances — let bygones be bygones. 

Angelo. With all my heart. 

Edgardo. Now, apothecary, what do you mean by 
giving this lady as deadly poison, a liquid, which my 
learned friend here, after a careful analysis, pro- 
nounces to be perfectly harmless ? 

Ugolino. I made a mistake, sir. I gave her the 
wrong drug. My panacea is all that I claim. I can 
show you testimonials. 

Edgardo. What is the use of your testimonials ? 
How can I tell whether it is deadly or not ? 

Ugoljno. Try it, sir. If it don't kill you in two 
minutes I will make no charge. 

Edgardo. Well, I'll take your word for it. 

Ugolino. I beseech you to try it, sir. I would 
be glad to have a testimonial from you. 

Edgardo. All right. I'll give you one. What is 
the principal ingredient in your drug, apothecary ? 



THE VENDETTA. 29 

Ugolino. The advertising, sir. 

Edgardo. The advertising? 

Ugolino. Yes, sir. Nothing succeeds Hke adver- 
tising, as Napoleon said. " The man v^ho has no 
music in his heart," said William Shakespeare, " is fit 
for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; but if he don't 
advertise he won't get any spoils." Shakespeare, sir, 
was a man of considerable intelligence, and when he 
made the aforesaid remark he was old enough to know 
what he was talking about. 

Edgardo. In that case, I don't feel like contradict- 
ing him. What is your method of advertising, drug- 
gist? 

Ugolino. Well, sir, I believe in putting in a se- 
ductive little notice at the end of a column of news, 
beginning with an allusion to some topic of interest 
or some familiar quotation, and winding up with an 
allusion to the panacea. For instance : " Whom the 
Sfods love, use the Universal Panacea." " I want to 
be an angel. Do you? Use the Universal Panacea, 
and if you do not shortly become an angel, it will be 
because you have already spoiled the raw material." 

Edgardo. I see, apothecary. Well, I will forgive 
your mistake. See that it is never repeated. And 
now, Elvira, will you be the bride of one who has 
loved you with wild devotion for the past fifteen min- 
utes ? 

Elvira. If I refuse, I suppose Antonio will cut 
my throat. 



30 THE VENDETTA. 

Edgardo. Oh, do not compel me to manifest such 
a proof of my devotion, 

Elvira. Well, anything to help your tableau. 

Edgardo. My darling ! And I know your father 
will not refuse to bless our union. If he should, An- 
tonio—— 

Franconi. Bless you, my children. 

Edgardo. Thanks, kind father. And now, who 
is there among us that is not happy ? I pause for a 
reply. What, none? Then— one, two, three — tab- 
leau ! 



THE VENDETTA. 



A Farce. 



By WM. E. McKENNA. 



Copyright, 1893, by Wm. E. flcKenna. 



I 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




